


Ask Me No Questions (and I'll tell you no lies)

by Momokai



Category: The Yin-Yang Master: Dream of Eternity, 晴雅集 | The Yin-Yang Master (2020)
Genre: #gaypanic, Compelled To Speak, Except It's More Like Compulsion Magic, In This House Honey Bug We Stan, M/M, Naughty language, Oh No Guys It's Cute, Qing Ming Is A Little Shit, Unbeta’d We Die Like Boya’s Pride, admission of feelings, eventual slash, truth magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29719170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momokai/pseuds/Momokai
Summary: Boya gets hit with a truth spell. It goes about as well as you'd expect.
Relationships: Qing Ming/Boya
Comments: 12
Kudos: 189





	Ask Me No Questions (and I'll tell you no lies)

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this instead of sleeping!

"I'm so sorry Master, I had no idea what it was when I picked it up!" Honey Bug wails from behind her hands, eyes wide and full of tears as she looks pleadingly at Qing Ming, who has found himself on the floor and somewhat entirely distracted by the dazed man in his arms.

"It's alright, Honey Bug, I don't think whatever it was is malicious." He assures his spirit guardian with a calming smile, who sniffles wetly and delicately dabs at her cheeks with the flowing length of her pink sleeve.

"I didn't sense anything from it, it was just a normal pin!" She explains in a rush, gesturing at the simple silver hair pin abandoned on the floor. Qing Ming sighs fondly and shakes his head.

"There's no real harm done, I think Boya is just fine." He says, while surreptitiously using the trailing length of his white sleeve to sweep the seemingly innocuous hair pin away, the length of metal skittering across the wooden floor before bouncing to a stop by the wall. Honey Bug watches it, lips wobbling.

"Speak for yourself, asshole." Both Spirit and Master jump at the unexpected announcement, and Qing Ming quickly returns his attention to the man stirring in his arms.

"Boya! How do you feel?" He asks concernedly, and is not wholly surprised when he is presented with one of the most delightfully unimpressed  _ looks _ for his trouble. He quickly squashes the reflexive grin at the familiar expression on his companions face.

"Like I just got kicked in the head." Boya spits in response, before blinking in bewilderment. Qing Ming sighs and shakes his head good naturedly as he carefully shifts Boya in his arms, helping him to sit up from where they are both sprawled on the floor. He might have reacted a touch...  _ strongly _ when Boya had collapsed suddenly and without warning.

"That's to be expected, I think. I'm not sure what kind of talisman it is but it's not harmful." Qing Ming replies easily, and it's the truth. When the talisman had activated in Honey Bug's hands he had not sensed anything untoward- Boya however, had reacted quick as a snake and struck the pin from his Spirits hands regardless, likely acting instinctively at the brief flare of foreign energy. In doing so however he had been the last one in contact with the pin before the spell went off.

"If I start turning unnatural colours or grow extra limbs I'll be blaming  _ you _ ." Boya huffs as he quickly disengages from Qing Ming's arms, to his utter disappointment.

Boya climbs to feet, waving off Honey Bug's steadying hands when he teeters. Qing Ming pouts as he too, rises.

"Come now, Boya, I hardly see how these theoretic outcomes would be  _ my _ fault." He complains even as he smiles. Boya fixes him with a mildly deadpan look even as he swipes non-existent dust from his leathers, and Qing Ming barely resists  _ cooing _ . Such expressions his companion can make, it's truly a delight.

He pointedly ignores Honey Bug hastily raising her sleeve to hide her mouth to the side of them.

"Don't be cute, it confuses me." Boya mutters, before snapping his mouth shut with a brief, mortified look on his face. Qing Ming blinks at him in surprise even as perplexed amusement bubbles up inside him.

"Boya, I wasn't aware you found me so confusing." He just barely manages not to titter, and Boya must see right through him, because he levels him with a dirty look before scoffing.

"As if you aren't completely aware of what you do to me." The words have barely left Boya's lips before he jerks as if struck, and swiftly slaps a hand over his own mouth. Honey Bug makes a choked, wheezing sound behind her sleeve, but Qing Ming is too startled to notice.

“And what do you mean by that?” Qing Ming enquires somewhat uncertainly. He has always been certain that Boya took his teasing in stride, knew that his often improper remarks were said in jest  _ (usually, he can’t help himself sometimes, the flirting just happens),  _ but if he had said or done something recently to make his companion truly uncomfortable he cannot think of it. 

“Have I offended you in some way, Boya?” He asks, because if he has he wants to know so he can correct it post haste. He does not want the object of his much lamented affections upset with him for something he could have prevented. He doesn’t think he could handle Boya being honestly upset with him.

Boya’s hand abruptly tightens over his mouth, his brows drawing together in a strained frown that has Qing Ming instantly concerned. He opens his mouth to ask what is wrong only to be interrupted by Boya’s other hand snapping up and pointing a single finger in his face. He pauses, mouth working silently for a moment and goes to ask- only for Boya to scowl at him. He closes his mouth, correctly if confusedly interpreting a request for his silence. They stand there awkwardly for a moment as Boya visibly struggles with something, Qing Ming maintaining his perplexed silence as he looks between his straining companion and Honey Bug, who is still hiding behind her sleeve. He narrows his eyes at her. Honey Bug’s eyes curve up at the edges over the curtain of her sleeve.  _ Oh dear.  _

Finally, Boya lowers his still rudely pointing finger before tentatively removing his hand from his face, the action so cautious he might as well have been going finger by finger. He pauses like that for a moment, hand still hovering near his mouth, before seemingly deciding the danger has passed. 

“This is a gods be damned truth spell.” He says, sounding so greatly  _ put upon  _ that Qing Ming can’t help but laugh in such fond delight as his concerns evaporate.

“Oh Boya, you had me so worried for a moment.” He chuckles, and Boya rolls his eyes before turning on his heel, gaze downcast and scanning the floor. He spots the pin by the wall and strides over to it before stooping to snatch it up, uncaring of potentially activating it a second time as he is already under its effects. He turns the innocent looking accessory between his fingers, examining it with a keen eye for any markings or script that might shed some light on its purpose or perhaps how to reverse the spell. 

Honey Bug shifts in place for a moment before finally emerging from behind her sleeve and, as if nothing had occurred, gracefully glides for the doors. 

“I’ll fetch some tea.” She declares, and Boya grunts as he continues to scour every inch of the hair pin, fingers carefully feeling over the dips and swirls in the silver. 

“I’d rather something stronger.” He says absently, and Qing Ming bites his lips to suppress the snicker that tries to escape him.

“ _ Boya _ , it’s hardly noon.” He teases, trying for scandalized but only managing blatant amusement. Boya looks up from the pin-come-talisman in his hands and glares at him. 

“ _ I don’t give a fuck _ .” He says, with feeling, before his eyes drift to the ceiling and slide closed in mortification. Qing Ming’s lips wobble, and he knows he probably shouldn’t but he can’t pass up the opportunity-

“How improper.” Boya’s eyes pop open and drop to level him with a  _ look,  _ and Qing Ming thinks smittenly that if looks could kill he might be laughing himself sick in the afterlife right now. 

“You’d be surprised.” Is the entirely unexpected retort. Qing Ming gapes, and Boya thumps himself solidly in the chest once as if beating out a cough. “Ignore that.” He snaps, clearing his throat. But no, he will not, because now Qing Ming is intrigued. 

“Oh?” He prompts before he can think better of it, and Boya brandishes the hair pin threateningly. Qing Ming steps back with a smile, raising his hands in surrender as he retreats to his desk, lowering himself to the cushion behind it with a soft laugh. Oh, but Boya makes it too easy sometimes, Qing Ming thinks as absently rests an elbow on his knee, honestly he can’t help but poke at him when he presents Qing Ming with so many opportunities like this, truth spell or no. Though it’s another thing altogether with its effects, Qing Ming notes as he leans his head on his knuckles to watch as Boya quietly runs qi coated fingers over the pin. 

Boya is usually so reserved with his responses that suddenly being privy to his true thoughts is… he hesitates to say  _ nice  _ because it’s not something his companion can actually  _ help  _ right now but it… is definitely eye opening. He knows of course that there is much more to Boya than he allows others to see, that there do in fact exist normal, mundane thoughts in his head just as any other man despite how sometimes Boya himself seems to forget that he is in fact just that. But Qing Ming has witnessed with his own eyes how others fall into the easy mindset of believing him some aloof, untouchable figure that exists solely for duty. 

It saddens him greatly that Boya feels that kind of need to distance himself from others in such a way, but he can’t say that he doesn’t  _ understand.  _ Qing Ming has his own ways of distancing himself, after all. He doesn’t here though, and never with Boya. He isn’t normally so free with his words around others, Boya might even be horrified to realize that Qing Ming is actually unfailingly polite in most other company, but he has never felt the need with Boya even from the first day they had met and fought over a pippa. There had just always been something about him that dropped Qing Ming’s guard which, he thinks somewhat sardonically, should have been the first red flag of his budding infatuation, now long since watered and grown into something he sometimes struggles with keeping contained. 

“What’s with the face?” Boya enquires out of the blue, and Qing Ming blinks out of his thoughts with a questioning sound. Boya has apparently come to the conclusion that he won’t find any answers from the pin itself and has since pocketed it and returned his attention to him. Having been so thoroughly absorbed in his thoughts Qing Ming hadn’t noticed any of it, or that he has since spent the last several moments  _ staring _ . He hopes his face hadn’t given his thoughts away too much, but since when has he ever been that lucky. 

“What face?” He deflects easily and watches, entertained beyond belief as Boya’s face goes through a myriad of fascinating micro expressions as he evidently tries his absolute best not to just blurt out his true thoughts without first  _ filtering  _ them. 

“Here’s the tea, Master.” Honey Bug announces with positively diabolical timing as she abruptly breezes back into the room with a tray in her hands. Qing Ming is not waylaid enough by her arrival to miss the look of profound  _ relief  _ that briefly crosses Boya’s face at the distraction, and dimly wonders what possible thought he might have been trying to keep behind his teeth to warrant such a reaction. Curious, very curious. 

Honey Bug sets the tray down on his desk and sets about pouring the faintly floral smelling brew into the cups before carefully distributing them, one set delicately in front of Qing Ming and one opposite him for Boya. He thanks her with a smile and cheerfully ignores the glint in her eye as she returns it and rises to leave them alone once more. 

Grasping his cup, Qing Ming allows the heat to seep into his fingers for a moment before taking a careful sip, humming constantly at the flavour as Boya lowers himself to sit opposite him. 

“We need to figure out how to break this spell.” Boya grumbles as he reaches for his own cup, eying it in faint displeasure for a moment before drinking. Clearly, he had truly wanted something stronger. Qing Ming contemplates retrieving the wine he may or may not have stashed in the cupboard behind him. 

“It might very well be a simple matter of time, Boya.” He replies honestly. It might very well be so, the spell itself is a harmless one, if inconvenient, and tethered to such an innocuous item that he truly does not believe it was one made with any ill intent behind it. Likely a talisman made in jest, or to perhaps prove a point. Either way he doesn’t think they need to be hitting the scrolls for counterspells or worrying too much about it just yet. Boya, clearly, disagrees. 

“I don’t want to wait it out, Qing Ming.” He almost  _ whines _ , and Qing Ming raises his eyebrows.

“Something to hide, my friend?” He asks cheekily, and is instantly intrigued by the sudden  _ blush  _ that tinges Boya’s ears. 

“ _ Yes _ .” Boya chokes out, before delving into his tea, as if burning his mouth out will ward off any further ill restrained words. Qing Ming’s eyebrows have yet to descend from his hairline, and he watches his companion drain his cup with curiosity. He thinks he should perhaps tone it down a bit for Boya’s sake, but the man hasn’t actually expressed any real ire at his prodding yet, and Qing Ming trusts that if he oversteps Boya will say so or simply remove himself from the situation. He thinks that, if he were truly making his friend uncomfortable, the spell would ensure he is made aware by prompting Boya to tell him off, as he would clearly wish to.

And to be frank, it would take a better man than Qing Ming to resist. 

Deciding to take  _ some  _ mercy on his companion, Qing Ming drops his hand from his temple and straightens to refill their cups, and idly comments-

“You’re taking all this with more grace than I might have expected, Boya.” Only because if it had been Qing Ming struck with the spell, he might have sent Boya fleeing for the hills to escape whatever inane prattle he might fail to suppress- or, heavens forbid, announce his affections. Ah. Probably for the best it  _ wasn’t  _ him. He takes a hasty sip of his refilled cup to hide the sudden heat in his face. 

“Barely,” Boya mumbles into his cup, “Just when I think I’ve got a handle on it,  _ words  _ happen.” He hisses as he lowers his tea to glare off to the side. Qing Ming hums. 

“Ah, the woes of the mortal man.” He replies with amusement, and is charmed by the scowl and quiet  _ fuck off  _ he gets in reply. “It’s not too terrible, is it?” He asks lightly, and gestures to his companion. “We’ve known each other long enough to not be offended by some trivial truths between us.” It’s actually quite refreshing. Boya is not one to lie, this he knows very well, but he  _ is  _ guilty of habitually omitting certain things or simply keeping his own counsel on matters. To hear his honest thoughts for a change is quite the treat. 

“You don’t offend me.” Boya says, and by the lack of any reaction to his own words Qing Ming takes it as a willing admission that warms him. He smiles. 

“I’m glad. I do worry sometimes that I may take my teasing too far,” He admits in return, “I don’t want to bother you or make you uncomfortable.” And he really doesn’t, despite literally everything he says to the man sometimes. He values Boya far too much to ever risk driving him away, and Qing Ming doesn’t think he would be able to bear it if he ever did. 

“I don’t mind.” Boya mutters as he fiddles with his cup, before taking a sip. But not before adding, “I love you too much for you to ever bother me.” Qing Ming freezes, startled at the almost absent words, and Boya apparently registers what he had just said, because he promptly chokes on his tea. Stunned, Qing Ming can only stare as Boya coughs loudly into his arm, reflexive tears wetting his lashes as he tries to clear the tea from his lungs. 

Boya hastily slams his cup down on the desk, and the sharp sound startles Qing Ming out of his daze. 

“Boya-” He tries, but for once, words fail him. He replays the last few seconds over in his head, and then does it again and again until the words are chasing themselves in circles within his mind. 

_ “I love you too much for you to ever bother me.”  _

Qing Ming thinks he might have played the remark off as a jest or perhaps an exaggeration if Boya had uttered these words any day before today, but his still spluttering companion is currently under the influence of a  _ truth  _ spell. However unwittingly he had said it, Boya had  _ meant  _ it. 

Boya loves him. 

The realization is almost enough for him to drop his cup, but Qing Ming quickly fumbles it to the safety of his desk before he can do so. Opposite him, Boya is climbing to his feet, coughing fit subsiding as he hastily turns away from him and makes for the door, and Qing Ming jolts, because Boya is  _ fleeing.  _

After admitting that he loves him. 

Qing Ming’s knee catches the edge of his desk as he scrambles to his feet, but he hardly notices the brief flare of pain as he all but jumps over it in his haste to catch his fleeing companion. 

“Boya, wait-” He calls, and reaches out to quickly snag Boya’s arm before he can clear the doors, tugging him to a stop and urging him to turn around. Boya stops, but he doesn’t turn, and Qing Ming decides he’ll take it. 

“I didn’t mean to say that.” Boya grits out, panicked, and Qing Ming could snort because  _ that much is obvious.  _

“Boya-” He starts, only to be interrupted. 

“I did mean it that way.” Boya blurts, before attempting to snatch his arm from Qing Ming’s grip to no avail, and growling. “Didn’t.  _ Fuck _ .” He curses, and Qing Ming laughs softly, shaking his head fondly and decidedly not letting go of his arm. “Don’t laugh, this isn’t funny!” Boya snaps, still refusing to turn and face him, but Qing Ming isn’t laughing at him, he’s laughing at himself.  _ How blind he has been.  _

“Boya-” Qing Ming tries again, gently-

“I told you I didn’t want to wait out this stupid spell.” Boya spits. Qing Ming sighs and tries to tug him around, but his panicking companion stubbornly holds his ground. And he is, panicking, that is, either abjectly mortified at his own honesty or spooked by whatever reaction he thinks will be forthcoming, or a mixture of both. Either way Qing Ming will need to calm him down before there can be any further discussion that doesn’t end with him bolting. 

“Yes, because you were afraid you’d do exactly as you just did.” Qing Ming replies reasonably, and Boya makes a vaguely embarrassed noise and tries to pull his arm free again. Qing Ming does not allow it. 

“Forget I said anything, it’s the  _ spell.”  _ He tries, and Qing Ming snorts because it’s a poor deflection and they both know it. Fed up, Qing Ming yanks Boya around, the man apparently unprepared for the force he puts behind the pull because he turns with it in surprise, and Qing Ming releases his arm and grabs him by the lapels of his leathers to hold him still. 

“You love me.” He states, catching Boya’s eyes with his tone carefully blank despite the tide of emotion currently trying to drown him. Boya swallows, and almost looks away before apparently deciding against it, clenching his teeth so tight Qing Ming can see the flex of muscle in his jaw. He remains stubbornly silent. Qing Ming tries a different approach. He tightens his grip and leans in, close enough to feel the warmth of Boya’s breath as he exhales in surprise. 

“You love me?” He asks. 

“ _ Yes.”  _ Boya breathes, eyes fixed unerringly on his face, and Qing Ming makes some sort of noise in his chest  _ (he honestly can’t say what, but it’s embarrassing)  _ and kisses him. Boya jerks, startled, before he just...melts into him, and kisses back. 

The kiss is languid, and Qing Ming quickly decides that kissing Boya is his new favorite pastime. He clings to the lapels of Boya’s leathers, almost afraid to let go, and Boya responds by sliding his hands over Qing Ming’s hips, wrapping his arms around his waist and tugging him against him. Qing Ming hums contentedly against his lips. 

Suddenly, Boya winces, and Qing Ming pulls back to frown at him in concern. 

“What is it?” He asks, and Boya blinks rapidly for a moment before shaking his head slowly. 

“ _ Nothing _ .” Boya replies, somehow very pointedly, and then sighs in relief. “Oh thank the gods.” He mutters, and Qing Ming blinks. 

“Ah,” He says, “The spell?” He guesses. Boya nods, looking entirely too relieved, and Qing Ming’s lips twitch up. “A bit late for that.” He teases, and Boya rolls his eyes, before tugging him back in for another kiss. Yes. Yes he thinks he’s definitely found a new pastime. 

Out in the hall, Honey Bug dusts her hands of imaginary dirt, and smiles. 

**Author's Note:**

> Honey Bug you diabolical genius you, all fed up with these two idiots dancing around each other. I like your style.


End file.
